


Three Proposals

by PrincessElectra



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessElectra/pseuds/PrincessElectra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Sam proposed, and the one time Blaine said yes. Angst-free fluff. Blam future fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Proposals

**August 11, 2013**  

[ _Somewhere in Arizona_ ]

The first time it happens, they are taking a pit stop on the hood of Blaine’s car. With the car parked a few feet off the quiet road, they find themselves enjoying a peaceful catnap under the cloudy August sky. Blaine wakes up first and decides to finish the box of onion rings he bought at their last pit stop. They are slightly soggy and completely cold, but still tasty and preferable to Sam’s bag of celery sticks.

“These are really good,” he teases, catching Sam’s sleepy eyes as they glaze over the remaining onion rings. “Come on,” he wheedles, “or I’ll eat the rest and be a sight for sore eyes.”

“Impossible,” argues Sam, ignoring the proffered box and instead, uses his teeth to snatch the half-eaten piece from Blaine’s hand.

Blaine yelps and throws another ring at him in retaliation. Sam laughs and picks it up. He holds it before Blaine’s face, shifts to his knees, and his lips morph into a wide smile.

“Me and you goes together like peas and carrots,” he declares in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Will you marry me?”

It was impossible to keep a straight face in the display of Sam’s puppy-like sincerity; Blaine collapses against the windshield in a fit of giggles. Using tremendous effort not to spit bits of onion and bread crumb all over himself, he shakes his head and lightly punches Sam’s shoulder.

Sam gives him a wounded look. “Life is like a box of onion rings,” he pleads. “You never know if the ring fits until you try.”

“Not a chance, Sam Evans!” Blaine pushes the oily ring away from his face, stomach aching from the laughter and grease.

Sam grins and takes a bite out of his rejected ring.

“You’re gonna say yes someday,” he tells Blaine, dropping the accent.

 

*

**July 24, 2014**

[ _San Diego, California_ ]

Despite their self-professed nerd-dom, neither Sam nor Blaine has ever attended a comic convention. Deciding that it was a good break from Blaine’s summer research project, Sam dragged him out of Palo Alto for a road trip to the south. As much as Sam loved living in San Francisco and admired the lovely Stanford campus where Blaine resided, he was itching to get out of the area and explore the rest of the state.

The crowd at Comic-Con was little overwhelming, and Sam had to grab onto Blaine’s hand a few times to avoid being swept up by the masses of people passing by. Neither of them was particularly dressed up for the occasion, certainly not compared to some of the elaborate costumes on display every few metres. Sam was wearing a t-shirt with the Flash lightning bolt, while Blaine was attired in a simple red t-shirt with a Star Trek insignia pinned to his chest.

They were gawking at a girl who looked like she walked out of Avatar—Sam’s artistic side was a little jealous—when someone ran into Blaine.

“I’m so sorry!” he apologized loudly, swaying. His hand went to his prosthetic Vulcan ears to make sure they were still attached. “I’ve never seen anyone do Na’vi so well. Oh, hey, you’re a redshirt!”

“Yeah, I’m a little fatalistic,” joked Blaine.

The other guy, who looked to be around their age, stares at him thoughtfully, still swaying and eyes slightly bloodshot.

“Huh, you’re cute.”

Blaine’s eyes widen a little at the stranger’s unexpected declaration. The Vulcan’s face was getting a little too close to his, giving him a light whiff of alcohol. “Right, thanks,” he says briskly, starting to walk away.

“Wait, wait!” exclaims the Vulcan, shuffling toward him again. “Come on, what does a guy have to do? We should hang out, get married, you know?”

Blaine snorts, opening his mouth to give the guy a piece of his mind—when Sam steps in front of him.

“ _Kal-if-fee_ ,” he challenges.

The stranger stares at him. “Did you juss...” he slurs, blinking in disbelief.

Sam shrugs. “You can always walk away and I’ll claim the prize.”

“Fine, _kal-if-fee_!” he hisses. He rocks back and forth, looking more unsteady than he had mere seconds ago.

_This has to be a joke_. Blaine winces. _We are about to be banned from Comic-Con for life, and I just got here_.

The intoxicated Vulcan (‘ _Really, what would Spock say?_ ’ thought Sam) takes a swing at him but is so off balance that he misses by two feet and lands face first in a pile of stormtrooper helmets (‘ _Seriously?_ ’ Blaine had no idea what was going on anymore). A few bystanders shriek at the clattering noise.

Blaine seizes Sam’s forearm and drags him away. They quickly make their way out of the area before security could arrive. Eventually, they come to a stop next to several colourful statues of teenage mutant ninja turtles.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Blaine is still catching his breath, glancing around for any security guards hot on their trail. Luckily, they look to be in the clear.

“I feel kind of bad,” said Sam, although he cracks a smile. “But he was a bad Vulcan.”

“I can’t believe you challenged him to a fight to the death,” said Blaine, rolling his eyes. “A fictional, ceremonial fight to the death.”

“Hey, I sort of won!” exclaimed Sam. He nudges Blaine gently, smirking. “That means...”

Blaine resists the urge to stick out his tongue, wondering how he wound up on all these adventures with such a goofball. _Because you love me_ , Sam would say, pouting. _True_ , he would respond, and Sam’s smile would probably light up the room.

“That means I get to marry you,” Sam concluded cheerfully. “So what do you say?”

Blaine slings an arm around his back, giving him a squeeze.

“Not today,” he said. “And you’re a little crazy.”

Sam doesn’t deny it.

“Crazy about you.”

 

*

**December 25, 2015**

[ _Westerville, Ohio_ ]

The coffee table was a mess of wrappers, trinkets, and gift items from various friends and family members. Blaine was sneaking glances at Sam, who tore through his gifts far too excitedly for a twenty-year-old. The sight of Sam’s unadulterated joy gave rise to a warm bubbly feeling in his chest, and he smiles when Sam squeals in surprise at the deck of cards ‘ _featuring 52 sex positions!_ ’ from Santana.

“And look! Cooper put ring pops in my stocking!” Sam announced excitedly.

“He put lumps of edible coal in mine,” replied Blaine. Along with the note ‘ _Sam tells me you’ve been “naughty” all year_ ,’ which he decides not to announce in favour of seeking sweet revenge on both of them.

“Guess what, Blaine?”

Sam props himself on one knee, and by now Blaine knows what’s coming next so he stifles a chuckle.

“Dear prince, I humbly beseech you to consider my hand in marriage.” Sam bows clumsily. “This penniless artist may not have much money, but if he did, he would buy a big house where we both could live.”

Before Blaine could come up with a witty response, his father enters the room, freezing at the bizarre sight before him: Sam is lying on the floor (having finally toppled over) and holding a green ring pop towards Blaine, while Blaine is holding a piece of coal and appears poised to pop it into his mouth (or throw it at Sam).

“Was anyone going to ask for my permission?” he says finally.

“Sorry,” replies Sam. He winks and gives the spurned ring pop a lick. “It was worth a try.”

“Proposing with a glorified lollipop is not ‘trying’,” refutes Blaine. “Hey! Are you eating my ring?”

“It’s not yours anymore.” Sam sniffs a little.

It was obviously a mistake to come down here. He had a breakfast date in bed with his gorgeous wife, and he needed coffee before he could deal with their insanity.

“You’ll get it right one day,” Blaine’s father tells them with a shake of his head, as he quickly makes his exit.

 

*

**+1**

**December 31, 2018 / January 1, 2019**

[ _Mont-Tremblant, Quebec_ ]

There will always be music, even without the New Directions, without careers in musical theatre, without record deals. Since senior year, they have chosen their paths thoughtfully: pursuing dreams, refining talent, seeking opportunities. Neither one could say that he regretted anything – because doing what you are meant to do for yourself and for the world is nothing less than music to the heart; it brought a sense of belonging that both had sought for so desperately back in Ohio.

At one time, it seemed like the choir room was the only place where happiness could be found, that New York was the only place where dreams could be realized. _What a lonely thought_ , reflected Sam when he was in one of his contemplative moods. Somewhere along the way, he realized that the choir room gave him the courage and support to see talent and value in himself, musical and otherwise. Sure, he loved music and the thrill of performing, but he didn’t need the applause or glory the way that some of the others did. He has an audience of one these days, and it’s more than enough.

Between Blaine and Sam, it was hard to separate the effect of ‘growing up’ from the effect of their friendship; maybe they were one and the same, a steady and strengthening foundation that gave both of them the strength to stand together and alone.

The snow is falling fast and it is the eleventh hour of the last day. Sam breaks out his guitar, and Blaine hums along as he prepares their midnight feast. After an active day on the ski hills, he wasn’t in the mood for a healthy snack.

They settle down on the rug by the fire, where Blaine is laying down poutine, peas and carrots, onion rings, burgers, and hot chocolate. Sam takes a plate and loads up on heaps of everything, much to Blaine’s amusement.

“What happened to ‘onion rings are full of grease, calories, and coronary heart disease’?” he teased.

Once upon a time, Blaine might have trepidations about making fun of Sam’s food intake, but Sam has faced and overcome those fears over the years.

“I’ve realized,” Sam tells him without missing a beat, “that love is more important than worrying about sudden cardiac deaths. I love onion rings like I love your face.”

“Romantic.”

He nods. “I always am.”

Sam picks up the last onion ring from his plate – a small, perfectly circular piece – not unlike the ring from his first proposal. His stomach flips a little and he darts a glance at Blaine who, to his delight, was smirking knowingly at him.

He couldn’t help but return a smile at the sweet memory, one of many he shared with Blaine. Ignoring his food for the moment, he pulls Blaine down to lie next to him on the soft rug. He shifts them until they are lying face to face, and then he holds up the ring again.

“Marry me?” he asks fondly.

Blaine shoots him a coy smile. “Yes,” he replies, and slips the onion ring onto his finger.

Sam blinks, then realizing that he heard correctly, beams and presses a firm kiss to Blaine’s lips.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he exclaimed. “Because this time, I was ready!”

Blaine surveys him curiously, a little puzzled by his words.

Sam sits up, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a tiny green box. “Ta-da,” he says triumphantly, preening at the utterly stunned expression on Blaine’s face.

“You’ve had this all along?”

“I put the finishing touch on it only a week ago,” confesses Sam. He had to make sure it was perfect, a masterpiece crafted by his own hands, surpassed only by the person that he hoped would wear it.

“Your father helped me with some of the raw materials,” he explained, as Blaine studied his ring in wonder. “The band is platinum, emerald in between the little gears, and the tiny nuts and bolts are made of zultanite...” he rattled off.

Sam had built so many things over the years, some for Blaine, some for galleries, some for lucrative contracts—but Blaine knew that this one was going to be his favourite. All along the band of the ring were little gears of different designs and sizes that spun when he ran his finger over them. Each gear had an emerald embedded in the centre. Blaine had never heard of the gemstone zultanite (Sam worked with a lot of esoteric materials), but he thought the caramel shade offset the rest of the colours beautifully.

Blaine holds out his left hand. Sam removes the onion ring and slips on its replacement for a perfect fit.

“This is the kindest, most beautiful thing that anyone has ever given me,” Blaine informs him quietly, “but just so you know, I would have happily taken the onion ring.”

“Then I guess my timing was right,” remarks Sam. “Right like us.”

Blaine tackles him and kisses him noisily. Sam moans a little beneath him, feeling somewhat delirious and more than a little aroused from all that has transpired within the hour. It also helps when Blaine is rubbing against him teasingly.

A beep from his watch briefly interrupts his lustful thoughts.

“Happy New Year,” Blaine whispers contently. “What do you say we break in the New Year with an engagement celebration?”

“What about the food?” Sam glances over at their neglected picnic.

In response, Blaine shifted his hips against him, and all protests from Sam’s lips ceased immediately.

Satisfied, Blaine nibbles gently along the exposed neck and tugs impatiently at the hem of Sam’s shirt. As he loses his shirt, Sam begins working on getting rid of Blaine’s pants. _I love you_ , Sam wants to say, but his mouth is a little too engaged in their feverish passion. When Blaine pulls away, he whines in protest.

“I love you too,” says Blaine playfully, before pulling in again for another kiss.

Sam has always believed in happy endings, but he knows that _this_ is not theirs: this is just the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Comments are welcome.
> 
> References to Forrest Gump, Avatar, Star Trek, Your Song (Elton John). Zultanite is a rare gemstone that changes colour depending on the lighting. Sam decided to let Blaine discover that for himself. Please pardon the British spelling.


End file.
